


Last Night I Died a Little Death

by ladyofrosefire



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M, switch!Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky isn’t like Steve. He’s selfish. He’s greedy. He’s a hedonist. But he’s like Steve in the fact that his impulse control was stolen from him when he was a baby. But it’s his last night in the states and he can be forgiven for indulging this once, can’t he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night I Died a Little Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DirectorShellhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirectorShellhead/gifts).



> I think homophobia would be significantly less of a problem in this ‘verse, or… for my purposes, I’m imagining it is.   
> Special thanks to DirectorShellHead for helping to inspire this thing in the first place and telling me to write it, and to Tumblr users, The-lannincesters, Issybird, and Stormbornbucky for beta-ing.
> 
> Recommended listening: Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier

_“I lay back and tried not to think of the minutes passing. Just yesterday we had a wealth of them. Now each was a drop of heartsblood lost.”_

_― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

 

* * *

It’s his last night on this side of the Atlantic and he has never had good impulse control.

That’s the excuse that Bucky makes for himself when he lets Connie drag him into the alley the way she’s been dragging him places all night.

She doesn’t project Dominant, not the way most of his dates do. She wears soft pink and sweaters; her only nod to tradition the leather of the belt on her dress. Hell, her friend looks more the part than she does with her red print dress. But no, Connie is a Domme and she’s got his number down _bad_.

So he doesn’t breathe a word of complaint until he sees that her friend is coming, too.

“Aw, hell…” He gives his hands a half-hearted tug and succeeds only in earning himself a stern glare and nails biting into his wrists. “Connie-- she ditched my best pal.”

“And she’s mine.” Connie tosses her hair back and stares up at Bucky, gaze firm and expectant.

He can’t tell if she means ‘mine’ like her best pal, or ‘mine’ like they’re together. Either way, he sees how this is: package deal. He can accept them both and-- okay, it will be a damn good last night-- or he can leave with his pride un-bent and march back home. Steve will be there, waiting for him, and they could talk--

But it will be cold and lonely and scared and _angry_ and everything that the trenches will be, only with Steve, and he can’t face that. He _can’t_.

He can’t look at Steve and think about how this wonderful, wonderful man wants to throw his life away for his _fucking pride_ and some misbegotten sense of obligation. He doesn’t want to argue and fight and try to explain to Steve that going out means getting some eighteen-year-old kid from Iowa shot in the trenches and leaving his mama and baby brother and best girl to mourn him. He doesn’t want to try to convince him that there’s no shame in going out there with a little red wagon and doing what you can without getting yourself killed.

He doesn’t want to have to admit that he’s scared out of his goddamn mind and he doesn’t want or know how to say goodbye to Steve, even though he knows he’s probably going to die out there.

And Connie is warm and _alive_ and she’s smiling at him and her hands are sliding up his arms, over the sleeves of his new uniform. And then her friend-- fuck if he can even remember her name, _God, this is ridiculous_ \-- has hers on his hips, now. She’s been staring at him most of the night and the attention feels so good. He’s been drunk on it since he got the uniform. Dominants had stared at him like they wanted to push him down and have him, and the thrill of it was so good on nerves numbed with anxiety, even fear. Submissives had looked at him and seen a Dom, and that had been new and different and _exciting_.

And now Connie, who knows he’s a Switch and isn’t about to let some new clothes throw her off stride, and who definitely likes the uniform, is looking at him like she wants to eat him alive. He’s inclined to let her.

Even if it means letting her friend join in.

What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

 

He has to believe it. He needs this far too much, after all. It’s not like getting stone drunk while he’s on a date is exactly acceptable. And it won’t help. Drinking when you’re upset just makes the hurting worse. He doesn’t want anything that will make him numb, either. Numb is dead. Hurting is better than dead. What he wants is for something to push the hurt out of him entirely, just for a while; just for long enough to let him pretend it isn’t there.

 

“Well?” Connie asks.

Bucky swallows his pride and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

The friend runs her hands up Bucky’s back and squeezes his shoulders. “I don’t know, ma’am,” she drawls in Bucky’s ear, “does he really want us?”

He tries to reply only to have Connie’s mouth come down on his. Only it’s up, really, since she’s so short. She pulls him down by his tie, thumb pushing the knot a little higher. He swallows a groan and carefully returns the kiss, not presuming, but testing. Her lipstick smears waxy over his mouth and he can smell perfume and popcorn on her skin. Then she pushes him back and her friend turns his head. He thinks she’s going to kiss him, too, despite the awkward angle, but she bites the other side of his neck instead, raising a mark on his skin, just above his shirt collar. He doesn’t even mind the gasp that escapes his lips.

Connie is still grinning when he looks at her again. “We’re good. Say ‘licorice’ if you need to stop. Same for you, Bee.”

Bucky nods and gives her his best ‘come on at me, sugar’ smile. “And what do you want me to call you?”

“Ma’am is fine for me…” Connie smiles, plucking at the buttons on his jacket, “And Bee likes ‘miss’.”

Bucky’s stomach swoops and drops, not unpleasantly. “I’m a--”

Connie presses a finger over his lips. “I know you’re a Switch, sugar. But so is she. And she’s mine, and I don’t let anyone take her apart unless she asks.” Her finger slides down his neck and over his tie. “Is that a problem?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head once. “No, ma’am.”

“Good boy. I’m gonna keep this nice and light, since we’re all still gettin’ to know each other. You tell me if I start to do something you don’t like. And if you want something, you can always ask. Just mind your manners.”

“Yes, ma’am.” One corner of his mouth quirked up and he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat, earning a smile from ‘Bee’.

Connie slipped a finger through the knot of his tie and tugged him forward to kiss him again. She bit his lip before she pulled away. Then she looked over at Bee and arched an eyebrow. “Want to do the honors, honey?”

She may be a switch, but God, Bee’s look gives him all sorts of shivers. He closes his eyes for a moment and tips his chin up, baring his throat.

“Sure is pretty enough… I’d love to, ma’am.” She stops to kiss Connie and Bucky leans back against the wall for a moment, taking a long, slow breath.

Yep, they’re definitely together.

 

It’s a long kiss and a deep one. When Connie ends it, Bee is gasping softly and her hair is a little mussed. She swipes a thumb under her lower lip to fix her lipstick, and then loops an arm around Bucky’s neck. He meets her half way and makes no effort to take control of the kiss.

Connie makes her pull back after another moment. Then her hands are on the button and zipper of Bucky’s pants, undoing them with exaggerated slowness. He stays still through that and Connie drawing his half-hard cock out through the opening in his underwear. The air is just cool enough that it’s very, very noticeable.

She steps to one side a moment later and rests a hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. Bee saunters around in front of him and opens her purse.

She takes her sweet time about getting out the tub of Vaseline

 

Despite the fact that he’s got his pants open and a couple of very, very pretty women in the process of taking him apart, Bucky is not too far gone to realize a couple things. One, that Vaseline was almost certainly for something like this. Two, it was almost definitely not for Steve, since Bee and Connie had only talked to him. Which means that _this_ was their plan all along. They strung along his best friend, made him a part of it, and then hauled him off to a back alley.

“What the--” He starts to reach down to do up his pants and just walk away when Connie catches his wrists.

“Can’t blame a girl, can you?” She murmurs, leaning up to mouth at the spot under the corner of his jaw that Bee had marked a little while earlier. It makes Bucky’s knees go wobbly and he hates himself for it more than a little. “Put something this pretty in front of her and then say she can’t have it, can’t share it with her best girl…” She sighed dramatically, her breath tickling his throat. “No one has to know, Buck.”

And then there’s a hand slipping back to cup his balls for a moment and he’s trying not to choke. A moment later, it’s gone, and he’s left waiting and guiltily wanting as Bee fishes around in her purse.

 

Bucky’s just a little ashamed to say it takes him all of two seconds to start shifting in place, hands curling and uncurling at his sides. Connie’s laugh raises a flush and a smirk. He’s about to lean down for a kiss when Bee’s hand, slick and soft, curls around his cock. His head falls back and he lets out a long sigh at the first long, slow stroke.

“God, he’s pretty…” Bee murmurs, lips at his throat, breasts pressed up against his chest.

Connie takes his hat and slips a hand through his hair. “Mmhm. Just remember we’re sharing.”

He gasps at the sting of teeth over his pulse point and both women laugh, bright and full, and fuck, this is good. This is what he needs. He can apologize later.

His hips jerk forward as Bee rubs a thumb over the head of his cock and he gets a slap for his trouble, hard on one hip, even through his clothes. That’s good, too. Then Connie’s hands are on his hips, holding him still.

“Behave.”

He nods. A moment later, he’s clapping a hand over his mouth and shuddering as Bee does something with her fingers that makes sparks shoot up his spine.

“ _Christ_ \--” He gasps, and then, “S- _oh_ \--sorry.”

Connie’s hands curl around his wrists and draw his arms back down to his sides. “No more covering your mouth. Bee here can really run hers when you get her going. We don’t care.”

Bucky nods his understanding, swallows hard, and then chokes as Bee’s fingernail brushes just under the head of his cock. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but God. Yes. He says as much, manages to actually say the last two words, and gets an arched eyebrow in response from Bee.

“Yes…?”

Bucky pauses, licking his lips. Then he stomps on his pride again and replies. “Yes, miss. Please?”

Her lips are right up against his ear whens she replies; “Good boy.”

Her nail rubs again, back and forth, making him pant and shake. Connie’s hands steady him, just enough. There’s a pause a moment later as Bee collects a little more Vaseline. Then her hand is back on his cock, stroking steadily, thumb rubbing over the head on every downstroke. Bucky groans and rocks his hips forward, toward her hand.

Bee gives him another hard slap. “Behave.”

It’s easier said than done. She’s touching him like she wants him to come then and there, and he knows better, but fuck, _fuck_. His vision is blurring at the edges and his thighs are tensed to trembling and he’s gasping. What is he _supposed_ to do?

 

Bee stops touching him and Bucky makes a desperate, punched-out noise and almost doubles forward. The cold is like a slap and he reaches down to protect himself.

 

The next slap is across the face, hard enough to turn his head, if only because he was not braced for it. The flush it raises on his face is only partially because of the crack of it against his cheek. For a moment, he stands there, shivering, with his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed. Then his posture goes liquid and, cool air or no, he lets his hands fall by his sides.

 

Connie groans, low and sweet. “That’s right, sugar… here. Let’s take you back to our place. Wouldn’t want to ruin your uniform.” She murmurs.

He shudders as she tucks his cock back into his pants and does up the button and zipper again. Bee takes one of his hands in hers, her fingers still slippery from Vaseline. Connie takes his other hand and together they lead him out of the alley. They take pity on him and hail a taxi, which Bucky insists on paying his share of the fare for even as Connie’s hand slides dangerously far up his thigh.

In a move so well practiced that he can’t help but think it’s rehearsed, Bee leans over to talk to her Domme and oh-so-casually rests her purse on Bucky’s lap. It provides the perfect cover for Connie to move her hand that last little bit and start rubbing his cock through his pants. He bites his lower lip almost hard enough to make it bleed in order to stay silent as pleasure spikes through him again. Somehow, he manages to stay still.

Connie grinds the heel of her hand against his cock in slow, insistent circles, keeping him close enough to the edge that he’s more than a little worried about coming, there and then, with the taxi driver giving them funny looks in the rear view mirror. She rubs her thumb over the head of his cock through his pants before she draws her hand away and gets out of the taxi. Bucky stumbles out after her, gasping and red-faced. Bee slips out a moment later, flushed and smirking.

The girls give him a moment to breathe, mercifully. Then, as soon as the taxi passes out of sight, Connie slaps him on the ass. “Off you go. Second floor, third door on the left.”

The look he sends her way is equal parts grateful and entreating.

 

He isn’t sure what he would have done if she had said ‘march’.

 

But she didn’t. So he doesn’t have to worry about that. Bucky walks as smoothly as he can-- which is not smoothly at all given the hard-on he is trying unsuccessfully to deal with-- up the stairs and into the apartment building. It’s a long walk with the girls giggling and leading him by the hands and occasionally coping a feel off of him. He’s dizzy from desire and endorphins by the time he reaches their apartment and Connie unlocks the door. When Bee pushes him inside, he stumbles a little and claps a hand to his hat so it doesn’t fall off.

A moment later, Connie’s swiped it off of his head and is turning it between her hands. “Clothes off, baby.”

Behind him, Bucky hears the key in the lock again, and then Bee’s soft laughter as she crosses the room and wraps her arms around Connie’s neck. They settle together onto the bed. Connie’s eyes are on him, expectant, while her hand slips up under Bee’s skirt. A moment later, she jumps and sighs, Connie’s fingers rather obviously on her clit, although Bucky can’t see what she’s doing.

“Get your clothes off, and I’ll show you…” Connie drawls, nipping under Bee’s ear.

He starts moving immediately and tugs his jacket off a little too fast for the two women to take it for anything other than desperation. Ah well. They know already. Bucky takes the time to fold his jacket because he does not want to have to iron everything to death tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to think about tomorrow morning, either. He sighs, loosens his tie, and focuses his attention on Bee’s face. Her mouth is partly open and he can see her chest rising and falling rapidly. It’s enough, despite his lingering righteous indignation, to distract him. Despite himself, he gives her a grateful smile. Then he moves to take off his tie.

“No.” Connie stops him. “No, you leave that on.”

The weight of her order makes Bucky shudder. He closes his eyes for a moment, nods, and then unbuttons his shirt instead. He decides to make a bit of a show of it, turning to show off the angle of his jaw and the width of his shoulders. He opens his belt and pulls it off next, setting it on the couch with his shirt and jacket. He unzips his pants, undoes the button, and tries not to rut into his own hand. He bends to tug his boots off before he does anything more, and gets a whistle from Bee. He straightens up, smirks, and then shoves his pants off of his hips. He folds them, albeit sloppily, and then reaches back with one hand to tug his undershirt over his head. It falls to the floor unheeded. His skivvies join them after only another moment. He’s left with his tie and his dog tags, the latter glimmering faintly against his chest.

Connie and Bee move toward him as he approaches them. They take his hands and draw him onto the bed with them. It’s cramped, but it means that their bodies can press together and it’s good. It’s so good. He needs it so _badly._

“May I kiss you?” He asks softly.

Connie’s answer is fingers curling in his hair and tugging him in, nipping at his mouth, slipping her tongue past his lips and bearing him down, tiny as she is, onto the mattress. The sheets are just a little bit scratchy under him and she’s warm and soft against his chest. She pulls his arms above his head and pins them. For a few moments, Bucky just lays there, panting. Then he presses upwards, groaning softly. He knows better than to fight her grip. She wouldn’t be able to keep him down.

“Bee, darling.” Connie shifts to straddle Bucky’s hips and rocks down against him, making him groan. “Grab his belt.”

Bucky turns his head to watch her. Bee’s dress flutters around her legs. It’s tantalizing and Bucky squirms under Connie.

“Hold still.” She glares at him, pinching his nipple _hard_.

He arches and cries out, heels slipping on the sheets. “S-sorry. Fuck. Sorry, ma’am.”

Bee is back a moment later. She cinches his belt around his wrists, wrapping it around and around until she can do up the buckle.

A moment later, both of them are on their feet. Bucky turns onto his side to watch them and resolutely keeps his hands away from his cock.

 

Bee stands, eyes heavy-lidded and darkened, chest rising and falling as Connie slowly opened the buttons on the back of her dress. It fell loose and dropped in front, revealing the curves of her breasts. She draws her arms out of it, and then held them up as Connie draws the dress over her head. It lands beside Bucky’s uniform over the back of the couch.

He stares at her, taking in the curves of her body, the way that goosebumps have broken out over her skin. Her hair is slightly mussed and there is a flush high on her cheeks. Bee groans as Connie massages her breasts through the silk cups of her bra. Bucky makes some noise and both women look at him, giving him the sort of matching smiles that come from spending a long time with someone. Then Connie and Bee exchange places. Bucks swallows hard and tries to hold Connie’s gaze as Bee flicks open each button on the front of Connie’s peach-colored dress. She goes to her knees to help her Mistress out of it.

Bucky makes a move to get up and go to her and, as he had expected, Connie holds up a finger. Slowly, she wags it back and forth, expression firm, but amused. He sinks back and she saunters to the bed, leaving Bee on her knees. Then she settles on top of Bucky. Straddling him. And rolls her hips down. He groans and presses up against her on instinct. He can feel the heat of her through the sticky, damp cotton of her panties and his tongue feels thick with how much he wants to beg her to take them off. He knows better. Instead, he lies back, reaches up to grab onto the headboard, and takes a few heavy breaths.

Connie thumbs the knot on his tie higher, and then uses it to turn his head toward Bee. She smiles at her and gestures her to her feet. “Get those off.” She orders. “Make this one.” She points at Bucky, “squirm enough and you get to pick how he gets you off.” Then she looks down at Bucky and grins, wide and bright and sharp as a pin. “You manage to hold still, and we won’t tease you too bad.”

 

Oh boy.

 

Bucky clears his throat. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.” He looks over at Bee and smirks. “Ready, miss?”

Bee’s answering grin borders on feral and Bucky swallows nervously.

 

Bee saunters over to the record player and puts on a record. The song that starts playing is low and crooning and, when Bucky focuses enough to actually bother to listen to the lyrics, fucking _filthy_. No kidding about them not caring what kind of things he says, then. As long as he’s polite. For now, though, Bucky is silent, watching with his lips parted as Bee swings her hips to the rhythm of the music. She starts with her bra, undoing the hooks slowly and swaying, back to the bed, as she lets the straps fall down off of shoulders. She blows a kiss to Connie and pretends that she’s dropped her bra by accident, fluttering her eyelashes as she bends and picks it up. She tosses it away immediately, though, and frees her garter belt a moment later. When she bends to slide her stockings off, she gives both of them a rather excellent view of her ass and Bucky tenses all over to keep from rocking up against Connie.

It doesn’t help that she’s started grinding down against him.

Bucky’s about biting through his lip to stay quiet and still, but if Bee notices, she doesn’t show any sign of it. She tosses her hair and looks back at them like a fucking pin-up girl. Bucky groans and looks away for a moment, breathing hard. Connie presses down just hard enough for it to be uncomfortable and tugs on the tie again. Bucky whines softly, but looks back at Bee anyway.

She’s in her panties, running her fingers under the waist of them as she moves slowly toward the bed. Of all things, it’s _that_ sight that makes Bucky squirm. He likes the realness of a body laid freshly bare, that first moment of revelation and fresh sensation.

 

He gets a slap across the face for it, and twin laughs from the women who are pulling him apart at the seams.

“You win, Bee.” Connie croons, drawing her close.

There’s a shifting of weight as Connie leans out and Bucky opens his eyes to see them kissing deeply. Bee’s fingers are in Connie’s hair. Connie has one hand against the small of Bee’s back and the two fingers of the other pressed up into her cunt. Bee is rocking against her palm, making soft, breathless noises. Her panties are bunched up around her thighs. Then Connie pulls back. It must be too soon from the bereaved noise that breaks from Bee’s throat.

“Want his mouth or his cock?”

“Mouth.”

 

Bucky groans and arches under Connie as the reality of his situation hits home. He’s not a guest. He’s not a voyeur, brought to spark excitement for the two women. He is a toy Connie has chosen and offered as a present. And fuck if it isn’t exactly what he wants.

He lies back, panting, eyes closed, hands closing and opening spasmodically. He doesn’t move his hips, even as Connie shifts off of him and the cool air makes him whine and want to curl up into a ball. When he looks down again, it’s because Bee’s hand is holding his cock steady, fingers just tight enough that he’s not sure he could come if he were given permission. He chokes on air, and then cries out as her tongue traces a quick design over the head of his cock. Bee pulls back, making a face.

“Oh, yuck. He’s still got Vaseline on him.” She complains. Then she yelps as Connie’s hand comes down on her ass.

“Don’t be rude. You started it. You finish it.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide and he squirms on the bed. “Ma’am-- it’s-- I really don’t--” He breaks off with a stifled yell, both because Bee’s just taken his cock into her mouth and because Connie’s nails are digging into one of his nipples. He jerks up into her hand, trying to relieve some of the pressure to no avail.

“ _I_ care.”

“S-sorry, ma’am.” He stammers.

 

This clearly is not Bee’s first time with a cock in her mouth. She doesn’t catch him with her teeth, and while she isn’t exactly _practiced_ , there’s something about it that lines up well enough with the idea that he is in their bed to be used that just _works_. He trembles and groans, trying not to squirm too much since Connie seems to have decided to amuse herself by playing with his nipples. But the time she orders Bee to pull off, they are reddened and sore and Bucky’s glad for the belt that reminds him not to reach down and soothe them. He sobs in relief as Bee comes up, red-mouthed and smirking.

“Ready, ma’am?” She asks, batting her eyelashes at Connie.

 

Connie holds up a finger dramatically and crosses to the couch. When she comes back, she’s got Bucky’s hat perched on her hair at a rakish angle and she’s discarded her underthings.

Bucky groans.

 

“Yes, I am, sugar.” She leans in and kisses the corner of Bee’s mouth. Then she settles beside Bucky. “Lean up.”

He obeys and she wedges their pillows under his head and shoulders. He gets a long kiss before Connie pulls away. There’s a crinkle of paper, and then Bucky’s hips jerk upwards as Connie rolls a condom down over his cock. She seems to test the width of it, squeezing lightly, and makes a satisfied noise. Then she points to Bee’s purse.

Bee scrambles up and gets her the Vaseline, which Connie promptly sets aside, albeit within reach. Then she straddles his hips, a hand on his stomach for balance. His cock rubs up against her entrance, making Bucky groan.

Bee takes the cue to shuffle up the bed and settle over Bucky’s face.

 

“On my mark…” Connie murmurs, sing-song and breathless. “One…”

She gets the head of Bucky’s cock into her and he swears, curling his hands into tight fists.

 

“Two…”

 

It’s Bee’s turn to squeak and arch as Connie reaches forward and around to capture her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

 

“Three.”

 

She sinks down on him at the same time that Bee settles against his mouth.

Bucky muffles his broken groan against her cunt. His legs tense as Connie shifts, moving experimentally until she finds an angle that does what she wants it to.

 

Bucky, too, is experimenting, running his tongue over Bee’s folds, seeking out her sensitive places, testing how she likes her clit touched, and how much. She gives him a little time to do it, and then grabs his hair with one hand and the tie with the other. She guides his mouth where she wants it and presses against his lips, heedless of the mess she’s making of his face. She’s smearing wet over his lips and cheeks and the heavy taste of her coats his tongue. Bucky learns quickly that she likes to feel his moans up against her, in her if he can slip his tongue into her just so. She prefers for him to leave her clit alone for the most part, and then to mostly circle it with little kitten-licks. She gasps sharply and her thighs tense next to his ears each time his tongue brushes it. The rest of the time, the noises that fall from her lips are soft, pleased moans, and the rhythm of her hips is smooth unless Connie’s taken it into her head to pinch or rub her nipples.

 

Connie, on the other hand, likes it fast. And she is very, very vocal. She cries out Bee’s name for the most part, Bucky’s once or twice, when he manages to rock up into her just so, which is fucking difficult when he’s trying to focus on two people at one time and his head feels like it’s full of warm honey and bubbles. She curses, too, urging him onward. Her nails dig into his chest, adding those little sparks of pain to the mess of sensation shooting through him. Connie rides him like she means to break him, sinking down quickly and grinds against him. Then she draws up far more slowly-- still quickly, because fuck, _God_ , she’s energetic-- so she can start again. That isn’t to say that that she moves the exact same way each time, because she doesn’t. Her rhythm is fluid, too, the fall-roll-rise coming together like a dance, like music.

 

He is strung taut between them, trembling, trying to hold the harmony of it. He can do nothing but let them play him, pluck him. A little too much force and he will snap.

Bee isn’t faring much better. She’s making desperate noises and can’t seem to decide between tugging Bucky closer or shying away from his lips and tongue. From the taste-- the heady wetness on his tongue-- and the heat of, she has to be close. Bucky groans softly and she makes a noise that bears more than a passing resemblance to a squeak, flinching away from it. Then she yelps, loudly, as Connie pinches one of her reddened nipples.

“Stay down.” Connie orders. “You stay, and you don’t come--” another pinch, which makes Bee squirm and cry out, “until I do.”

Then it is Bucky’s turn to yelp as Connie gives one of his nipples the same rough pinch. “That goes for you, too.”

He stammers out a muffled ‘yes, ma’am’, which goes unacknowledged by both women. They know he understands, and they knows he wants every moment of this-- the press of Bee’s thighs, the heat of Connie’s cunt and the rush of pleasure when she clenches on his cock. He can feel a heavy knot of pleasure, dense and hot and oh so enticing, tugging under his navel and at his cock. He could come, but he’s not allowed, and the thrill of it makes him moan and thrust up into Connie with just a little more energy. He twists his hands in his belt, feeling the leather rub against his skin. He’ll have a mark there, even though he is not pulling all that hard.

 

A moment later, Bucky makes a noise that is far too close to a squeak for his pride to be happy about. Connie’s finger is rubbing insistently over his hole, barely dipping in, tugging just a little. He starts making high, muffled noises against Bee’s cunt and tenses up all over, toes curling against the sweat-damp sheets.

Bee lifts up with a relieved gasp at a tap from Connie and Bucky heaves in a lungful of air. His eyes are wide and startled, and when he lifts his head, he can see both girls eyeing him, Bee with pure and undisguised satisfaction, and Connie with a certain amount of calculation mixed in.

“Is this a no?” She asks.

Bee is not getting a break after all. Connie has leaned forward and reached around to tease her clit and she’s squirming and clutching Bucky’s arms so she doesn’t reach down. Bucky’s eyes lift from Connie’s fingers to Bee’s face before he looks behind her and meets Connie’s gaze.

“It’s-- no, ma’am. It’s not a no.” He admits, voice roughened, a flush burning halfway down his chest.

Connie rolls her hips and Bucky is forced to break eye contact as his back arches.

“Didn’t think so. Now relax and focus on my best girl.” She pushes on Bee’s hip, who obeys with a soft whimper.

Bucky does as ordered. He finds Bee slick and hot to the touch of his tongue, enough that he has to swallow a little as he curls his tongue in her. She’s clearly more than ready to come if only she were allowed. Her thighs are trembling and tightening around his head and she keeps pressing down enough to cut off his air. He’s so caught up in the taste of her and the way she feels against his mouth that he forgets to tense up.

He cries out when he feels Connie’s finger slip into him. She’s changed to short, rocking thrusts. She’s just trying to come at this point, but she is also moving her finger inside of him and she manages to get her finger against Bucky’s prostate and he jerks under her, squirming. His eyes go wide again and Bee laughs even as she flinches away from his tongue. He’s been going easy on her, trying to help her through this, but he can barely manage a rhythm with how close he is. He ends up crying out with his tongue up against Bee’s clit. She jerks away, shuddering, and then slumps as she comes with a drawn-out moan.

“S-sorry, ma’am.” She gasps.

Connie clucks, disapproving. “You stay right there.”

The order makes Bee shudder all over, but she obeys.

 

Bucky does what he can to make this easier for her, avoiding anything too sensitive even as he shudders. She, too, takes pity on him. She digs her nails into his arms and he lets that pain anchor him. He cannot be given the same punishment as Bee, but he doesn’t want to come early, anyway. Not when Connie feels so _close_.

He’s not wrong, thank fuck.

 

Connie comes a short while later, muffling her cries with a hand over her mouth. She clenches around Bucky’s cock and works herself through her climax, ignoring Bucky’s desperate cries. He needs to come badly enough that it hurts. She does not give him permission until she is shaking through the aftershocks.

He comes, shaking, under her and Bee, hips jerking upwards, his groans muffled against Bee’s cunt. She falls off to one side a moment later, closing her thighs with something half way between a laugh and a whine. Connie pulls off of him a moment later, removes the condom, and then stretches out, resting her head on Bee’s stomach. Bucky sighs and stretches, and then turns onto his side to give them space.

It’s a few more moments before Connie reaches over and unwraps the belt from around Bucky’s wrists. He sighs and rubs them slowly, bringing his arms back down again. Then he closes his eyes and, forgetting all pride, buries his face in Bee’s shoulder. One of his hands settles on her knee, his thumb rubbing in a slow arc. Connie reaches over and rests a hand on his hip.

And then-- nothing. Nothing happens for a few moments other than sweat drying on their skin, and an ever more present feeling of stickiness at his hips and around his mouth. They lie together, entangled, while their breathing steadies. There are soft murmurs between the two women that he does not listen to. When they ask him how he is, he makes a soft, contented sound and smiles up at them.

 

Bucky doesn’t know why things go the way they do. He comes down smooth and easy, setting back into one piece without trouble thanks to the warmth of the two women. His mind clears, leaving only the rush of endorphins and a lingering soreness behind. The relief makes him laugh, shoulders shaking, eyes squeezed shut. Bee starts laughing, too, after another moment, covering her face with one hand. Connie chuckles softly.

“What’s so funny, sugar?” She asks, smoothing a hand down Bucky’s side. “You feel good?”

“I feel…” Bucky starts once he manages to stop laughing, “I feel…” And then he shudders and lets out a hiccupping sob.

Bee sits up, surprised, and draws his head into her lap. “How do you feel?”

He drags in a deep, steady breath, and then responds. “ _Alive_.”

Connie makes a soft, understanding noise. She takes the hat off and wings it onto the couch. Then she strips the tie from around his neck and throws it aside as well.

It’s like she’s squeezed the trigger on a machine gun and held it down. Bucky jerks like he’s been shot and starts-- sobbing. Panicked, full-body sobs that make him shake and gasp for breath. He does more than let Bee hold him. He clings to her, his hands in white-knuckled fists against her back.

“I don’t want to die.” He gasps. “ _I don’t_ \--”

He stops speaking for a while and gives up holding in the panic he’s felt since he wound up in the army. It isn’t about his family. It isn’t about Steve and his spirit and his medical bills and his fucking _pride_. It is about his not wanting die in a trench in France with so much left undone in his life. He wants a family of his own. And he wants a family to have more to remember him by than his dog tags.

By the time he finishes, he feels better. Raw and maybe a little scraped out, but somehow clean. Slowly, Bucky sits up, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand.

He smiles at the two of them, first Connie and then Bee, and clears his throat. “Thank you. And… sorry. About…” he gestures at his reddened eyes.

Connie shakes her head and reaches out to him, running her fingers through his hair. “It happens. And it’s _fine_ , Bucky. You were so good for us. I’m glad you got something out of this, too. More than just…” Her smile turns a touch lascivious.

Bucky chuckles wetly and gets slowly to his feet. “Thank you.” He leans in to kiss Bee on the cheek, and then kisses Connie as well. “I-- have a good night.”

Bee pouts at him, but stands anyway. She pulls a bowl out of a cabinet and fills it with warm water and sets the sliver of soap beside it. Then she passes him a towel. Bucky takes it gratefully. They’re still watching him as he cleans himself up, of course, and so he can’t help but blush. They’ve made a mess of him. There’s lipstick and wetness from Bee’s cunt on his face and his body is sheened with sweat. There’s also Vaseline that really ought to be cleared away, but he just can’t make himself reach back and do it. It’s not bad, and he doesn’t mind carrying that reminder with him a little while longer.

He shakes his clothes out and then puts them on a piece at a time, zipping up his fly and smoothing his shirt. The two women chose that moment to come back to him. Connie does up the buttons on his jacket, straightens his tie, and then replaces his hat on his head. He leaves it on straight, deciding the rakish angle he had spent so long perfecting just wasn’t worth it right now. Each of them gives him a soft kiss before he went to the door. He salutes them both with a wry twist to his mouth.

Then he walks down the steps, out onto the sidewalk, and then down the street toward his apartment, his hands shoved into his pockets.

 

When he comes home, his chest feels a little less like it’s about to explode into shrapnel than he did when he left, and there’s a lingering soreness in his body that feels like the high from running long and hard. He feels alive.

It’s almost worth the sight of Steve lying with his back to the room and his thin shoulders hunched.

  
Almost.


End file.
